A horrible palpitation, due no
doubt to some defect in the organization of his heart, shook him with
reiterated blows when his father, showing himself to the assemblage
like some majestic old lion, pronounced in a solemn voice the
following brief address:--
"My friends, this is my son Etienne, my first-born son, my heir
presumptive, the Duc de Nivron, to whom the king will no doubt grant
the honors of his deceased brother. I present him to you that you may
acknowledge him and obey him as myself. I warn you that if you, or any
one in this province, over which I am governor, does aught to
displease the young duke, or thwart him in any way whatsoever, it
would be better, should it come to my knowledge, that that man had
never been born. You hear me. Return now to your duties, and God guide
you. The obsequies of my son Maximilien will take place here when his
body arrives. The household will go into mourning eight days hence.
Later, we shall celebrate the accession of my son Etienne here
present."
"Vive monseigneur! Long live the race of Herouville!" cried the people
in a roar that shook the castle.
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